something like cheating

"That's good! That's really good!"

Molly was beaming at me from her computer chair, but I couldn't really bring myself to smile back. She'd asked me about my weekend, so I'd told her. I told her about all the things I ate. Things I haven't eaten in a long time. Things like pasta and bread and hot dogs and macaroni and cheese. I knew Molly saw this as a breakthrough, but more truthfully it was something like cheating.

This week came with the doctor and dietitian appointments I'd finally scheduled. I stacked them on the same day, hoping it would ease my anxiety. My weight has continued to slowly drop, and I knew things would get ugly if those numbers showed up on their scale.

So I did something I have never done before.

I ate with the intention of gaining weight.

I ate with the intention of gaining weight.

But...

And there's always a "but," isn't there?

But I promised myself I was not going to keep it. And maybe that's bad. Maybe that's the opposite of everything I'm supposed to be doing. But that promise is the only thing keeping me from losing my shit. It's why I only slammed my arm into the doorframe once. 

So I'm just gonna keep holding onto it.

Monday night, I was so full and bloated and miserable that I skipped dinner. I was sure I'd done enough. I was sure I'd gained twenty pounds. 

Tuesday morning, the scale read one pound above my lowest weight. One pound. One fucking pound.

This is where I found myself searching my closet for the heaviest sweaters I owned. It'd come to this. What was I going to do next? Sew weights into my pockets? Fuck.

I layered like I was about to journey to Antarctica on foot. At work, I let my boss buy me beef noodle soup for lunch. I ate the whole thing. And then I ate a piece of bread. And then I ate a cookie. I tackled food like it was the bar exam, and I hated my dietitian and the doctor and the treatment center and pretty much everyone with each bite.

It was after lunch that I got the voicemail. My appointment with the dietitian had been cancelled. I was horrified, then furious. I'd been preparing for this. They couldn't just cancel things!

At least I still had the doctor appointment. At least I hadn't gained weight for nothing. At least I didn't have to talk about fucking meal plans. 

At my appointment, the nurse took my weight and hid it beneath a yellow post-it note as she always does. And I hated that she did it, just like I always do. My anxiety mounted. The nurse tried to talk about my shoes. I did not want to talk about my shoes. The doctor finally came in. She wanted to talk about how I felt. I did not want to talk about how I felt. So I smiled. I said I was great. I said I was eating more. I said I wasn't restricting as much. 

Finally she got to my weight.

"I am slightly concerned because you've lost one and a half pounds since I last saw you..." She said, flipping through her notes.

I did some frantic math in my head. I hadn't gained enough. Slightly concerned? What would slightly concerned get me?

"I guess it has been a month." She finally concluded. "And you were just recently sick. So you're probably still coming back from that."

I breathed out.

"Probably." I lied.

....

There have been a lot of wonderful, encouraging comments on my blog lately that frankly I do not deserve. I'm sorry I haven't been responding lately. I do appreciate them so very much, I just haven't been able to wrap my head around saying anything back. So please know I am thankful and sorry and I will try to do better.